The Caribbean Tales
by Miss Quartermain
Summary: Christine Turner is a woman in a very strange situation. Ten years ago, she was a stowaway on the pirate ship that her father sailed on. Now, her past has come to haunt her, and it is starting to ruin all of her life. AU. Jack/OC/Norrington, Will/OC
1. Living Nightmares And Waking Dreams

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Christine and Anne, and all plots involving them. All the rest are the property of Disney, and I am only borrowing them. At least until I manage to steal the rights.

Author's Note: Wow, it has been so long since I last visited this story. I have to say, I never really thought I'd come back to Christine and all her mad plots and such. But recently, Obi's Second Cousin and I have been doing a lot of RPing with the Puck of Gargoyles fame. We came up with the idea that Puck had once taken the form of Jack Sparrow—for further details look at Obi's Second Cousin's wonderful Puck of the Caribbean stories—and then Christine woke up again. So for the first time in almost five years, I'm going to try my hand at writing this story. Hopefully it will be more successful than the last attempt. And now, let the tales begin!

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**Caribbean Tales**

**Book I—Curse of the Black Pearl**

**Chapter One: Living Nightmares and Waking Dreams**

I woke to the feeling of icy water lapping against my feet, my clothes soaked from the waist down, and my bodice and hair crusted with sea salt. Slowly opening my eyes, I blinked rapidly and then coughed harshly, my lungs burning as some of the salt water I had swallowed made its way up my throat. Gagging at the taste, I felt my stomach heaved, and only managed to keep myself from being sick through sheer willpower. Groaning softly, I looked around as my eyes slowly regained focus. Then I swore rather creatively.

Not only was I floating on a piece of driftwood in the middle of the ocean, miles away from any sign of life, but I was also with my young brother, William. I had no idea of knowing when we would find another ship, and little memory of what had gotten us _into_ this mess in the first place. All I could do now was wait and pray. Thankfully Will was asleep. The longer he was asleep, the greater chance he had at survival. I dragged myself more fully onto the piece of driftwood, trying to do the same for my brother, but my arms simply would not work that way. They were far too exhausted for some reason, and all I could manage was to pull myself up a few inches before collapsing. It certainly didn't help that my thick skirts were now soaked through, making them weigh almost ten times what they had before. If this kept up, I'd be tempted to lose them altogether, and propriety be damned.

While my brother slept on, I tried to remember what had happened, pushing my brilliant red hair away from my face, sending little bits of dried salt falling to the surface of our makeshift raft. I remembered very little of what had brought us to this point in the last few hours—had it only been hours? Or had I slept for days?

Shaking my head, I closed my eyes tiredly and sighed heavily. I remembered getting onto the ship in London, both Will and I hoping that doing so would bring us that much closer to our father. I had not had much hope of it succeeding, as I knew who and what our father was, but I could not deny that Will's enthusiasm was infectious. We had been forced to save and work for months to get the money for passage, but it had seemed worth it at the time.

Looking around at my surroundings now, I couldn't help but think that perhaps I should reassess how "worth it" all that work from before had been if it ended with Will and I dying in the middle of the ocean.

Either way, we had set out to find our father, and the first several months at sea had been uneventful. I was grateful for that much. I knew that the dangers of pirates were very real, and we were more than lucky to have not run into any for so long. That was when my memory of what had caused Will and I to be floating in the middle of the ocean came flooding back.

Our luck with regards to pirates had come to an abrupt end. Only this morning—or was it yesterday morning? I had no way of knowing—I had woken to wander along the decks of the ship. The fog was growing thick around us, but I had not thought much of it at the time. I should have. I knew better than to just ignore such signs as the ominous fog that surrounded us. Unfortunately, I did not think to make the connection with the fog and our impending doom until it was nearly too late for any of us.

Coming out of the fog had been the one ship I had hoped to never see again in this life. A shudder ran through my spine at the memory and I closed my eyes tightly with a whimper. Now was not the time for me to be so weak, I thought with a frown. I had to be strong for Will, if either of us were to survive another day. Shivering as the cold water sapped the strength from my body, I tried to sit up, but found that I had neither the strength nor the will to do even that simple task. Groaning in exasperation, I swore fluently under my breath before I looked up sharply. I could have sworn that I had heard something…the creaking of a ship's wooden hull, perhaps…I couldn't see anything, but that didn't mean much at this point. I pushed myself up finally and looked up as my guess was proven correct.

The huge hull of a ship of His Majesty's Royal Navy pierced the thick fog surrounding us and very nearly hit the corner of the tiny makeshift raft that Will and I were on. Instead, it simply caused a slight swell in the water that made us rise and fall a little. Up above me I heard the voice of a young girl calling out.

"Look! A boy! There's a boy and a woman in the water!"

"Man overboard!"

I nearly swooned from my exhaustion and the cold finally sweeping over me, but I managed to barely cling to consciousness as Will and I were pulled onto the ship's deck and blankets wrapped around me to keep me warm. I was almost delirious, and I strongly suspected that I was catching a fever, but I managed to stumble closer to my brother, as though my mere presence would keep danger away.

I kept my gaze on Will, not trusting anyone else to take care of him. I'd been tending to him for years by now, after all. No one else knew him quite as well as I did. But my own exhaustion was still pressing against my mind, reminding me just how badly I needed sleep as well at this point. My eyes felt heavy as lead weights as I stayed huddled by my brother, only barely aware of the men surrounding us. It wasn't until I felt a strong hand on my shoulder that I looked up.

The man who had touched my shoulder was a young officer—he couldn't be more than twenty-five years of age—who smiled kindly at me. My mind was too far gone in exhaustion to truly take in his appearance, though I had an idea that he was very handsome. It also took me a moment to realize that he had asked me how I was feeling. I needed sleep so badly, but I couldn't leave Will alone…

"I…I'm well," I mumbled, not wanting to slur my words and give further proof about how tired I was.

Clearly I did not convince him, as he smiled wryly and helped me to my feet. "It will be all right, Miss," he assured me. "We will see to both you and the lad." He paused for a moment to let me gain my balance before continuing. "Might I ask what your name is?"

Of course…name…that was an important fact, wasn't it? "Ch-Christine Turner," I said with a tired nod.

"Then, Miss Turner," the young man said with a polite nod. "Welcome aboard the _Dauntless_. My name is Lieutenant Norrington. Please, do not hesitate to ask for anything that you need."

I longed to ask for a bed and a hot bath, but I knew how unlikely it was that I would find the latter. I could certainly wash my hair, but not the rest of me. Sighing heavily, I looked over at Will and shivered. "I…we both need rest…" I finally admitted. "If we could have a cabin…?"

"Of course, Miss Turner," Norrington said with a nod. "If you will follow Mr. Gibbs here, he will lead you below decks to one of our free cabins."

I barely managed to thank the kind lieutenant before stumbling after the older man who had been introduced to me as Mr. Gibbs. The cabin was not much, but I was used to smaller quarters than this. All that mattered to me at this point was that there was a bed and I could promptly collapse and find solace in sleep.

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I woke again to the familiar rocking motion of the ship, and for one brief moment I wondered if I had only dreamed the last three years, or if I had actually never left my father's side. Then I spotted Will sleeping peacefully away and I knew that I had truly seen the merchant vessel we had been passengers on attacked by the one ship I had hoped to never see again. Shuddering at the memory, I looked away hastily in case Will should wake and see my fear. I knew that I had t be strong for him; I'd been doing just that for two years.

Slowly standing, I was pleased to see that there were fresh clothes laid out along with a bucket of water for the purpose of washing. There were no women's clothes on the pile, but I did not mind that in the least. I found skirts and such to hamper my movement far too much for me to ever be comfortable in them. Ensuring that Will was unlikely to wake anytime soon, I stripped down to my undergarments—which were just as salt-encrusted as the rest of my clothes, but there was modesty to consider—and knelt by the bucket of water. My long hair, which felt hard and crusty under my hands, would be the first thing to be cleaned.

I couldn't do much, but by the time I had at least rinsed and scrubbed my hair as much as I could, it once more felt soft to the touch. Wrapping my wet hair in a scrap of blanket to keep it from dripping, I slowly began pulling on the clothes left to me. It felt so wonderful to be free of those heavy skirts that had hampered my movements, and I almost laughed out loud. Gathering up the clothing I had been wearing when I was rescued, I checked on Will again and smiled as I saw the color had returned to his face.

Now sure that he was fine, I left the cabin to find someone who could help me deal with these old clothes. Perhaps the cook could do the laundry…

I was so caught up in what I was doing and thinking that I almost ran into two small girls, perhaps ten years of age, though the darker-haired girl looked at least a year younger than her companion. Stumbling back in surprise, I smiled weakly at the two of them. The older of the two girls had quite a prim and proper look to her, like she had been born to privilege and was well aware of just how well off she was. Her younger friend, on the other hand, had the humble look of a girl who had once been less privileged than she was currently, and as such instantly hung back in the shadows of her richer friend. They were both very pretty children, with their hair carefully curled into perfect ringlets, as was the popular style now, and the darker-haired girl had brilliantly blue eyes that made me want to smile at her with how sweet they were.

"So sorry," I murmured, holding my salt-covered clothes tight. Something about the older, blonde-haired girl made me feel dirty for simply carrying my own dirty clothing. "I didn't see the two of you."

The younger girl bobbed a hasty curtsy and nodded. "Quite all right, Miss…" she said slowly, eyeing me curiously. "You were the one who was pulled out of the water, weren't you?" she asked with a slow smile.

"Yes, I was," I said with a smile of my own.

"Oh, yes. You were the one with the boy," the blonde girl stated, quite as though she had all the authority in the world behind her.

"…Yes…" I replied slowly, dragging out the word. "Sadly I don't know your names…"

"I'm Anne!" the younger girl said with another brilliant smile. "My brother was the officer who saved you from the water."

Oh…that was why she seemed so familiar. She had the same jawline as the handsome lieutenant who had been so kind to me. And her eyes were very similar to his, now that I thought about it. The other girl, however, I had no idea who she was, but she did not seem willing to tell me who she was.

"And this is Elizabeth Swann," Anne continued, still smiling that sweet smile. "Her papa is going to be the governor of Port Royal."

And that served as an explanation for why the girl was so very…aloof. I nodded politely to the young girl, feeling very much as though she was looking down her nose at me. At least Anne was a polite little girl.

"If you will excuse me," I said with a smile. "I was hoping to find a way to deal with these…" I indicated my clothes.

"I can help!" Anne exclaimed happily. "Follow me!"

I did so with a smile, watching Anne dance along through the crowds of sailors, who all seemed merely amused by her as they watched her. I followed as closely as I could, laughing as we entered the galley, where Anne came up to the cook with a beaming smile.

"Hello," she greeted the large man happily. "Miss Turner needs her dress cleaned. Can you do that?"

The cook looked more than a little amused as he looked from the child to me, nodding. "Aye, Miss. I think I can," he said, taking the dress from me with a wink. "For such pretty faces, I'd go out of my way to do much more laundry than this."

I managed to blush at this and rolled my eyes. I knew all about dealing with sailors, after all, and he was one of the least harmful to approach me. Anne looked pleased with her work in convincing him to clean my dress and skipped off, taking my hand in hers to pull me along. I couldn't help but feel the eyes of many of the crew members on me as I walked. No doubt it was because of my very unusual attire. I tried to ignore it as much as I could, but when I noticed young Lieutenant Norrington looking at me, I began to blush, and I had no idea why.

"James!" Anne called happily, rushing over to the young man and hugging him around the middle. "I was just taking Miss Turner to get her dress cleaned."

And now I knew Lieutenant Norrington's first name. James…it suited him, I thought to myself, standing with my hands clasped in front of my like any proper girl of my age should. Not that I was any proper girl, but there was no need for me to parade that fact around.

I watched Norrington with his sister, and I was surprised by the tenderness in his manner towards her. He returned her hug with a smile that completely changed the lines of his face from harsh and masculine to soft and fatherly, and he even knelt down so that he was at her eye-level. This behavior reminded me of my father and how he would greet me every day when I was a child.

Seeing such a tender moment, I began to feel as though I was trespassing. Slowly backing away, I started to turn away when I heard Norrington's voice stopping me.

"You do not need to leave, Miss Turner," he said slowly. "How is young William recovering?"

"Oh, yes," I said with a nod. "Will is my little brother."

Norrington blinked in surprise at this, and nodded slowly, as though still trying to process this. "I…I see," he said slowly. "I assumed…with how greatly concerned you were…"

"Of course I was concerned," I replied. "I have been raising Will since our mother died two years ago."

That impressed him, clearly, and he looked down at his sister with a slight smile. He had a handsome smile, I noticed to my embarrassment. I should not be so attracted to him. He was a man far above me in station, and a sailor in His Majesty's Navy. That made him a danger to me in more ways than I cared to think of. Out of habit, my left hand moved to cover my right wrist, even though it was already hidden by the sleeves of the shirt that had been left in my cabin. Not since I was fourteen had I been so grateful that men's shirts were so loose and large on me. Sighing heavily, I tried to ignore how handsome Norrington was.

It wasn't an easy task, but I felt that I did a satisfactory job as I ducked my head politely. "And my brother is doing well," I said with a slight smile. "I hope that he will be waking soon. If he has not already."

My accent and speech pattern also seemed to impress Norrington. I was not a girl who was obviously from a high social class, so it was rather odd that I had developed a tone and accent similar to an educated woman. That was a conscious effort on my part. For the last three years, I had been trying to make myself sound more educated than I truly was, in an attempt to hide just how illiterate I truly was. It was…embarrassing to me. My family had never had enough to allow me to attend any form of schooling. I could barely read anything beyond my own name! The last thing I wanted was for anyone to be aware of how uneducated I was. I certainly did not want to sound like the cabin boy I had once pretended to be.

But that was an entirely different story.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant," I said quietly, bobbing a curtsey and smiling weakly. "I think I will go check on Will right now…"

Without lifting my head to see if Norrington had bowed in response, I hurried away and sighed to myself. I hadn't let myself think of those memories in two years…perhaps I should, given what I had seen before the merchant ship had been attacked. Yes…it was time to face my past. At least then I would be able to know if Barbossa had been following _me_ when he attacked the merchant vessel.


	2. Three Years Back and No Way Out

Disclaimer: I still only own Christine and Anne. Sadly, Disney has thwarted my plans to steal the rights to Pirates of the Caribbean.

Author's Note: So, first chapter done! Let's hope that I can keep this up for a while. It's a nice break from all the Mazanett I've been writing. I love that couple to death now, but at the moment I really need to make a change of pace for a while. We'll see how that turns out.

Just a warning, the next few chapters _will _be flashbacks to explain Christine's backstory. But don't worry, it'll be worthwhile! And I'll keep returning to the "present" of the story so that we know what's going on between Christine spacing out.

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**Caribbean Tales**

**Book I—Curse of the Black Pearl**

**Chapter Two: Three Years Back and Now Way Out**

I looked up at my father with a frown, tears in my pale eyes. All I had wanted was for him to stay a little longer, just so that we could be a normal family. He was always leaving us on short notice. Mama hated it, though she tried to hide it behind her Irish temper and her devotion to Will and I. Will…he was only nine, and he didn't even know our father that well. I was barely fourteen, and _I_ barely knew our papa. That was horrible to me, because I had always worshipped the ground that he walked on. Yet he kept leaving me behind, with Mama and Will. I hated it. I wanted to hate _him_, but I couldn't quite bring myself to do so.

"Please…don' go, Papa…" I whispered quietly, looking up at my father with pleading eyes. "We need you '_ere_…"

My father was a tall man, so he had to kneel down to be closer to me in height. As he did so, I could see the regret in his eyes. But rather than making my anger dissolve, it only fuelled it. If he didn't want to leave, then why was he insisting on it? I wanted to strike him, to make him realize how much I hated him at this moment.

"No tears, Christine," he said quietly, smiling weakly at me. "Ye know that I have ta go. It's my work, luv."

"Yer work can go ta 'ell," I muttered rebelliously. At the moment, I didn't care whether or not I was supposed to talk like that. I just wanted him to know how angry I was. "Papa…ye can' go, please…"

Even as I said it, I could see the determination in my father's expression. He wasn't going to let me win this round at all. There were times when he might let me win arguments, but not now. And I had thought that I had him around my little finger. Damnit! My father could be so infuriating sometimes!

"Jus' take care of yer mother an' brother," he ordered in the tone of such command that I bit back the retort building in my mouth.

Glaring up at him, I tried to think of a way to respond that would make him understand how angry I was with him. "I always do," I finally said, with so much bitterness that it was clear what I was truly saying was "unlike you, Papa."

I wasn't certain if he understood that was what I meant, as he stood hastily and turned to hug my mother close.

So many people were surprised at how different our family was. My mother, a fiery Irish woman, had the red hair that supposedly marked her temper, and dark eyes that were almost always on fire with some sort of passionate emotion. My father, on the other hand, was dark-haired with calm pale eyes that rarely showed anything other than affection for his family. I had inherited my mother's hair and my father's eyes while Will had inherited mother's eyes and father's hair. So many people assumed that most of us were not related, particularly Will and I.

Yet, despite their differences in both temperament and personality, my parents still adored one another. It was heartbreaking to see my mother have to wish my father farewell, never knowing if he would come back. The anger I felt towards my father multiplied as I saw the pain in my mother's eyes, and I had to leave the room.

Running into my bedroom, I slammed the door shut behind me and stood in the middle of the room, my fists clenched tight enough that my knuckles ached. I hated him. He was abandoning all of us, like he always did! This was so…so…Oh! I couldn't let him do that. Not this time. I'd heard my mother cry herself to sleep too many nights in a row after Papa left. That was not going to happen again if I could help it.

Papa would be leaving tomorrow morning, and I was not going to let him go without me. I would go with him, one way or another. Moving to the tiny mirror that I kept beside my bed, I took up the pair of scissors beside the mirror and set my jaw. I wasn't going to stand down now. Tying my hair back, I slowly reached back with the scissors and cut just below the band holding my hair back with a slight whimper. My brilliant hair was my one vanity…and I was sacrificing it for the sake of protecting my family. If this didn't work, I was going to kill my father.

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The docks of London were so crowded that I could barely push my way through to the ships docked there, let alone keep an eye on my father. Dressed in discarded boy's clothes, I felt very out of place. For once, I was grateful that I did not take after my mother in how curved she was. It was easier to hide what I did not have yet under the too-large shirt that I was wearing currently. And the terrible job I had done in cutting my hair was covered by a hat, much to my relief. The hat also would serve to hide my face from my father. The last thing I wanted to happen was for my father to see me and send me home without him. I was not going to go home unless my father was with me, one way or another.

Ducking past a few men carrying various crates from one of the docked ships, I finally caught sight of my father again and rushed after him. I'd almost lost sight of him for a moment, which would have destroyed my entire plan. While I was never very religious, I murmured a silent thank you to whatever God was in existence. I was too frightened at this point to care one way or another if God actually was real.

Slipping through the crowds, I finally reached the ship that my father was coming to and stared up at it in awe. The ship was enormous and dark, its sails black rather than the typical white, and I could already see several men filing onto it, including my father. I looked at the stern of the ship to see the name written in proud letters; _The Black Pearl_. Blinking a little in surprise, I felt a sudden sense of foreboding that I could not explain. Hastily pushing that aside, I made my way up the gangplank with as much confidence as I could muster, which at the moment was not a great deal. Once on the deck, I found myself surrounded by other men attempting to get onto the crew. Standing at the other end of the deck was a young man, probably somewhere in his late twenties, who appeared to be the captain.

I had to admit it; I was smitten already. The young captain was handsome, in a rugged and unkempt manner that I couldn't help but find appealing. His features were well-formed and slightly rough from years spent at sea, exposed to the elements, and his skin was dusky, probably inherited from a black or Spanish parent. Dark brown eyes looked over each possible member of the crew, and for a moment I was gripped by the sudden fear that he would see right through my disguise. Which was completely insane. It was not as though he could see through cloth. That thought filled me with embarrassment and my pale skin flushed a brilliant scarlet as I crossed my arms over my chest, focusing more on the captain than on my embarrassment. His dark hair was in dreadlocks, and a hat was tilted rakishly on his head. As my eyes travelled downwards, I flushed when I saw that his shirt revealed part of his chest.

That was when my examination of the captain ended. Ducking my head, I closed my eyes and took a shaky breath. This was it…if this man didn't think I was going to be good enough for his crew, then I would never be able to tell my father exactly what I thought of him and his always leaving us alone. No…this captain _would_ be impressed with me. I was _not_ going to fail here. Looking up again, I set my jaw and stared straight ahead.

"Now," the captain said with a smirk, pacing back and forth in front of those of us trying to get onto the crew. "Fer those of ye who don' know who I am—which shouldn' be many of ye—I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

I barely bit back a gasp. I had heard some rumors about the rising young pirate captain who had vanished from under the eyes of seven agents of the East India Trading Company only a few months ago. So…this was Jack Sparrow…he was far younger than I had expected him to be. And far more handsome…

I needed to stop thinking like that. It was getting ridiculous already.

"I'm no' lookin' fer any land lovin' crew members, I'll have ye know," Sparrow continued. "Ye're ta answer an' obey all orders withou' question from both m'self, an' m'first mate, Hector Barbossa!"

He pointed to another man standing beside him. Barbossa was neither young nor handsome, I was quick to notice. He was far more rugged and weather-beaten than Sparrow, and his hair was a steely grey and scraggly, and I could see from here that his teeth were yellowed and his beard, unlike Sparrow's well-tended goatee, was just as scraggly as the rest of his hair. In a word, Barbossa was terrifying to look at.

"One more thing," Sparrow continued, looking pointedly at all of us. "If ye have no love fer the sea, ye migh' as well turn around righ' now, because this won' be the place fer ye."

Several men in the crowd shuffled off of the ship. I remained where I was, my feet planted firmly on the deck, even as it rolled with the slight waves that came up to the docks. I noticed that my father and several other men—all rather gruesome-looking, I noticed—also remained. Thankfully my father was halfway across the ship from me, and couldn't see me. If he did, then…I had no hope of this succeeding.

"Righ', then!" Sparrow said with a smirk. "Welcome aboard the _Black Pearl_, mates!"

He began walking in front of those who remained to joined the crew. When he passed by me, I stiffened like a board, praying that he didn't notice what few curves I had. He barely glanced at me at first, but once he had gone past once, he came back again. My fear increased as I looked up at him, my heart pounding away in my chest, and not from my being smitten with the captain.

"Well, lad," he said, looking down at me. He was very tall compared to me. "Wha' might yer name be?"

Oh, bloody hell…I hadn't thought of that. My mind went into overdrive as I tried to not become distracted by how close the captain was. "It's…Christopher," I said in a low voice, hoping that would make me sound more like a boy.

"Go' a las' name, Christopher?" he asked with a smirk.

Damn…damn, damn, damn, damn…I almost began to panic as I looked up at the captain. "S-Sawyer, sir," I said, not even knowing where I had come up with the name. I just hoped that he accepted it and left it at that.

"I see…" Sparrow mused. "An' what brings ye ta my ship, lad?"

"The sea," I replied promptly. "I've always wanted outta this blasted city."

True enough, I realized with a slight frown. I had never really thought of this before, but…I did envy my father's seeming freedom to go wherever he wished and to see the world at his own pace. I wanted that kind of freedom for myself. Was that why I was really here? That…was a troubling thought. I ignored that as I looked up at Jack Sparrow.

"Good answer, lad," he replied. "Welcome aboard. Cabin boy."

…I was on the crew. I was on the crew! Relief flooded through me as I nodded at the captain. Smiling weakly, I watched him walk away before a sudden thought occurred to me. I would have to bunk with several _men_.

Bloody hell. Just…_bloody hell_…

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The first night onboard the _Pearl_ was almost as bad as my imagination had made it out to be. I had refused to undress in any way when I went down to sleep, which had naturally caused several of the other members of the crew to jeer at me. At least they didn't know I was a girl. That would only make things worse.

Unfortunately, my fear also meant that I didn't sleep well that first night. When I came up to the deck, I was exhausted, and more than a little irritable. I didn't know how I was going to handle this for…I had no idea how much longer. Perhaps I hadn't thought out this whole thing too well…

Regardless, I was where I was, and I was going to see this through one way or another. Sighing heavily, I followed the new cook and found myself in the galley, with new chores to do. Thankfully I was able to avoid the rest of the crew—namely the captain and my father—while I was in the galley. Also, I managed to finally put what cooking Mama had taught me to use. Unfortunately, I couldn't stay in the kitchen all day long. There were decks to be cleaned, items to be hauled, and worst of all, a captain to be served.

I didn't want to be anywhere near the captain, for fear of him discovering my secret. Any man who could disappear from under the eyes of seven agents of the East India Company had to be intelligent enough to see through my pathetic charade. Then he would ask me why I was there and I would have to tell him about my father, and he'd send me onto land the first port we came to, forcing me to go home without him, thus making all of my work worthless. I hated the uncertainty surrounding all of this…I had to avoid the captain at all costs.

I soon discovered that this was easier said than done.

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My thoughts were interrupted as I felt a hand on my arm. Starting in surprise, I smiled in relief and pulled Will into a tight hug. "You're awake, finally," I sighed in relief, stroking my brother's hair and smiling. "Do you feel any better?"

Will held me tight, and for a moment I was hit by the realization of how close the two of us had come to losing one another in the attack. Holding Will close in response, I soothed him as much as I could.

"Y-yes…" he admitted quietly. "I do feel a little better…still tired, but I couldn't sleep anymore."

"I understand," I said quietly. "Shh…Let's get you something to eat…if you want?" I looked down at Will questioningly and smiled slightly.

Will shook his head slightly and sighed, hugging me tightly. "Not yet…" he murmured. "I think I'm still too tired for food. I think I'll look around…"

"Of course," I replied with a nod. "Go on. Be careful to not get in anyone's way."

I watched Will as he moved away, slipping between crew members as though he had been doing this for years. A shiver ran through my spine as I noticed this. If I were more fanciful, I would say that it was our father's pirate blood coming through. Fortunately, I am by no means fanciful or superstitious. I am not the sort of person who believes in ghosts or piracy being in the blood. Though…given my experience, perhaps it was possible…

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There was something about being on _The Black Pearl_ that just…filled me with a sense of fulfillment. When combined with the gripping terror I felt anytime I saw my father walk past me, it made for quite an interesting feeling. And I had to admit that I rather enjoyed the thrill of it all. Even with the sometimes mind-numbing fear that filled me when I saw my father passing by, or the great discomfort that I felt around the members of the crew, I was happier than I had ever been before. I almost forgot about my original intention in following my father to the sea. Almost.

What I did not expect was that my father would ever speak to me face to face. Not when I was the lowly cabin boy right now. What possible reason would he have to speak to me? I never foresaw him actually seeing through my disguise and speaking to me about it in private. Let alone so soon into the voyage. I had hoped that he wouldn't see through it for a little longer, possibly at a point when he could not simply send me back home.

All of that came crashing down only three weeks into the voyage.

The cook had sent me to do chores around the ship. This was a usual enough request by now. I had gotten used to being sent to various areas of the ship to do various tasks by this time, so I wasn't entirely surprised when I was sent to the hold below decks to get some extra rum for the galley. What I _was_ surprised by was when I found my father waiting in the hold for me.

I didn't know what to do. If he knew who I was, really…then it was all for nothing. I would be sent home. He would never let me stay here, not knowing that I was here, surrounded by all these pirates. Oh, it was all over…

"Erm…" I said in what I had come to think of as my more masculine voice. I kept my head ducked to avoid meeting his eyes and held my breath. Maybe he didn't really know who I was…

"Christine," he said quietly.

And my hope died, screaming in agony. Now I wasn't ducking my head to hide my face, to prevent him identifying me, I was hanging my head in shame. He wasn't yelling at me yet, but I knew that he was angry with me. There was disappointment in his voice. My silence seemed to be the final confirmation that he needed.

"How could ye, Christine?" he asked with a sigh. "I told ye ta stay home an' take care of yer mother an' brother!"

"Even when ye won'?" I demanded sharply, finally looking up at him with a glare. "Ye keep leavin' us, Dad! Ye'll never stay fer more'n a few weeks!" Each word I said seemed to be a slap in his face. I felt a vicious sense of fulfillment at this and continued. "Mama cries herself ta sleep every nigh'!"

"…Am I interruptin' anythin'?"

Both my father and I turned around sharply to see the captain standing behind us. Oh…bloody hell.


	3. Secrets Revealed and Truth Lost

Disclaimer: I still only own Christine and Anne. Still no word from Disney about giving me the rights to the franchise.

Author's Note: Flashback chapter two! Stick with me on this, folks. There's going to be a point behind all this. Eventually. I promise.

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**Caribbean Tales**

**Book I—Curse of the Black Pearl**

**Chapter Three: Secrets Revealed and Truth Lost**

I froze as I stared at the captain. How long had he been there? What had he heard? Oh, God…the panic I had been holding back before came sweeping over me in a wave. No…nonononono…I didn't want to be sent now…

"'Cause if I am interruptin', I can always jus'…go…"

It was almost impossible to not see the amusement in Sparrow's eyes as he looked from my father to me and back again. Apparently so did my father, as he turned deadly pale, resting a hand on my shoulder and gripping it as tightly as he could. It hurt, but I wasn't about to complain about it right now. After all…this was my fault more than anyone else's. Damn it. I didn't want to face him now, but I had no choice now.

"No, Jack," my father said quietly. "Ye migh' as well know."

"Oh, might I?" Sparrow asked with enough sarcasm for me to suddenly feel an irrational dislike directed at him. "An' what might I be coming to be knowing, William?"

My father looked down at me as I stared at the captain pointedly, my hands clenched into fists. The air seemed to crackle as we all looked at one another, but I wasn't about to let either man know that they were getting to me.

"This…is m'daughter, Christine," he said slowly, keeping me close. "My oldes' child."

I watched the captain closely, trying to judge his reaction. There was surprise, of course. Which was followed by amusement and…I couldn't really tell what else it was that crossed over his face. All I really knew was that suddenly I was blushing as my father pulled off my hat, revealing my still uneven hair that was now somewhere around my shoulders. I would have to cut it again soon, but I had not had the time or privacy to do so before now, so I had been forced to hide my hair in my hat.

I ducked my head so that the captain couldn't see my face and sighed heavily. Sadly, that also meant that I could not see Sparrow's face and guess what he would decide to do about me now.

"Well, William," he said after a long moment of silence. "I will say this…she's done good work so far. The cook swears by her. I'd hate ta see her go. And given where we are located at this point, it would be quite impossible ta send her back in the first place."

Such a good point. Hope swelled up inside of my chest as I looked up at Sparrow. If he could convince my father to let me stay, I would never be able to thank him enough. I tried to not look too pleading or pathetic, but I couldn't be sure if I was succeeding.

My father did not seem to be of the same mind as Sparrow, though. "Jack, she can' stay here. She _has_ ta go home."

"We're in the middle of the ocean, William," Sparrow retorted. "It isn' as though we can stick her on the firs' British ship we see."

"She's standin' righ' here!" I protested. "Please, Papa! I wanna stay…jus' a li'l longer…" I looked up at my father with my eyes wide and pleading. "Please…"

There was a long pause as my father and Sparrow stared one another down, as though mentally arguing over where I should go in the end. I didn't want to leave. They had both heard me say as much, and now my fate was in their hands. Well…technically it was in Sparrow's. He was captain here, and so he had the final say. The sudden thought took hold of me and I clung to it as though it would save my life. I _had_ to stay on this ship. I didn't completely understand why I did, but something about it just called to me in such a way that I _couldn't_ leave.

It felt like an eternity before my father finally spoke. "Fine. Bu' the minute we're near a por' an' I feel she has ta go, she is _gone_."

I felt so relieved that I almost sank to the floor as I looked from my father to the captain and back again. Sparrow nodded his understanding and held out a hand to my father.

"An' the fact tha' she's yers—an' a _she_—never leaves this cargo hold," he said with a smirk.

Closing my eyes in relief, I nodded and hastily tucked my hair under my hat. "Thank ye, cap'n…" I said quietly.

"An' she's not bunkin' wi' the res' of the crew anymore," my father added fiercely, his eyes almost glowing.

"William," Sparrow said slowly, as though trying to carefully explain something to a child, "there isn't _room_ fer her ta go somewhere else. I would pu' her anywhere else if I could, y'know tha'."

My heart sank. I hated being surrounded by all the crew and trying to hide my gender from them. I might not be able to keep it up for much longer at this rate. My father had a point that I had to go somewhere else.

"Find a way," my father said firmly.

The captain's eyes danced with mischief, and I could almost see the various smart remarks that he was tempted to use in response to my father's demand. In response my cheeks flushed a brilliant scarlet. This seemed to only encourage the captain, it seemed, as he smirked even more, winking at me conspiratorially.

"Ye have my word, William," he said with a nod. "Now…Christopher has some work ta get back ta."

Right…we were back to my lie. I continued tucking my hair into my hat and nodded, rushing away from the two grown men. That was far too nerve wracking. Closing my eyes tightly, I grabbed what the cook had sent me for and once more rushed past my father and Jack. I threw myself into the rest of the day, trying to ignore the growing desire to simply collapse from nerves. I didn't allow myself to do that until I finally made it to my bunk. Then I curled up tight and tried to disappear into the woodwork of the ship.

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_The Dauntless_ was an enormous ship. I discovered this by trying to keep track of my brother on it over the next several weeks that we were there. Keeping track of a twelve-year-old boy is never an easy task, as I knew from experience, but it was even more difficult to keep an eye on him on a large ship like this one. Thankfully I had two allies on the ship, not counting little Anne. The kind Mr. Gibbs and Lieutenant Norrington promised me that they would help me to keep an eye on my brother, but even then it wasn't quite enough.

I was protective of Will, and I realized this. I'd spent two years teaching and raising him after our mother's death, so it was natural that I would be protective. But he was also twelve, and old enough to know when to walk away from situations that could be potentially bad for him. And yet, I clung to the idea that he was a child that needed my protection and for me to shield him from the world. It was so hard for me to let him go like this.

All the same, it did help me to not have to watch over Will every waking moment. I needed the silence and the peace, as I had so much to think about right now.

I was attracted to Lieutenant Norrington. No one could blame me for that much. After all, he was a handsome man who had saved my life. At the very least, he had given the orders that led to my life being saved. I was grateful, naturally, and so I wanted to express that gratitude somehow. I just didn't know how to do so.

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Jack Sparrow was a man of his word. Not only did he arrange for me to have my own space, but he made it so that my father would be there as well, making it less suspicious that the lowly cabin boy got an entire cabin—a tiny one, but still a cabin—all to himself. It was a relief to be able to be myself and not Christopher Sawyer when I went to go to bed. Especially after long days where I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the decks until my fingers bled. Such had been the case today.

Groaning as I sat in the cabin that was now mine, I winced and tried to wash the blood off of my hands without causing too much more pain. That did not work as well as I had hoped it would. Tears of pain were burning their way down my cheeks by the time I had cleaned off my hands, and I curled up on my bunk with tiny whimpering sounds. I didn't notice my father coming in until I felt his hand on my shoulder. Looking up pitifully, I smiled weakly.

"Papa…I suppose this is when you say that you warned me…" I muttered darkly, curling up tighter on the bed. "But, please don'…"

"I promise I won'," he said, gently stroking my hair and sitting down beside me. "Actually…I wanted ta say happy birthday."

…Oh…I had almost forgotten that my birthday was coming when I signed up to become a member of the crew of _The Black Pearl_. And now it was here…I was fifteen now, and yet I still felt like an exhausted fourteen-year-old whose hands were still bleeding. Groaning as I forced myself to sit up, I began attempting to bandage my hands. It wasn't easy, as the fingers on both of my hands were unyielding and I couldn't quite hold onto the bandages.

"Here, le' me," my father said gently, slowly wrapping the bandages around my fingers and palms. "Sorry," he apologized when I winced at his touch.

"No…it's fine," I lied, clearly not convincing anyone. "My birthday…"

I hadn't thought of this. Mama and Will must be so worried about me at this point. I'd been gone for almost three months, and now it was my birthday and they still hadn't heard anything from me. What if they thought I was dead, or worse? Oh…I really hadn't thought through any of this when I made the choice to follow my father.

"Don' worry 'bout yer mother," my father said with a wry smile, almost as though he could read my thoughts. "I wrote ta her as soon as I foun' out 'bout ye bein' here an' sent it when we stopped tha' merchan' ship tha' gave us the supplies."

Sometimes I wished that my father wasn't so good at reading me. Smiling wryly at him, I looked down at my now-bandaged fingers and felt the tears of pain building up again. It hurt me so much…but it would be worth the pain, I supposed. I wouldn't give up now just because my fingers were hurting.

"M'sorry…" I muttered slightly. "But…thanks, Dad. She was probably panickin' 'bout me bein' gone."

"Probably," my father agreed, his tone bleak. "Bu' there's no changin' what's been done. An'…it's yer birthday. Let's no' talk 'bout tha' now."

With a nod, I moved to snuggle against my father. I hadn't really had much of a chance to spend time with my father since he had discovered my secret. I had also been avoiding the captain like the plague. Now that he knew that I was a girl, my infatuation with him would be so much easier for him to discover. That was the _last_ thing I wanted right now. I wanted time to overcome it before I could face him. Just thinking about it made me flush a brilliant red, that I hoped my father couldn't notice.

"I s'pose a gift woul' be too much ta hope fer righ' now…" I said weakly, smiling up at my father.

He smiled back at me, stroking my hair, which had continued to grow out and lost some of its uneven look. "Actually…" he said slowly, reaching into a pocket and pulling out something wrapped in a kerchief. "Happy birthday, luv."

I was honestly surprised by this. We were in the middle of the ocean. How did he manage to get me a gift like this? Well…taking the kerchief in my hand, I gasped in amazement at what I found. Somehow my father had found me a gold locket, with intricate etchings of flowers and vines all along it. When I opened it, I saw an old image of my mother and father together. Tears filled my eyes as I smiled at my father.

"I…Papa, thank ye!" I whispered, truly touched. "Where did ye…?"

"It was yer mother's," he explained. "I gave it ta her when I firs' me' her. She said that I shoul' give it ta ye when I though' ye were old 'nough fer it."

Oh…now I felt even worse about leaving my mother and brother behind. I didn't want her to think that I wasn't worthy of her trust, or that I wasn't mature. I only hoped that when I did return home—whenever that was—that she forgave me. Blinking back the tears in my eyes, I smiled weakly.

"Er…mind helpin' me put this on?" I asked, indicating my bandaged and stiff fingers.

"'Course, luv."

Lifting up my hair out of the way, I felt my father clasp the locket around my neck and smiled to myself. I wouldn't be able to show it to anyone, but I didn't care at this point. In a way, this was a gift from my mother more than from my father, and I was going to cherish it no matter what.

"It looks lovely," my father told me with a smile. "Go on an' ge' some rum."

That surprised me. My father had never allowed me to touch the rum on the ship. It was as though he was afraid that I would get drunk and reveal my secret. I wasn't _that_ insane. Apparently my father was willing to forego his usual protective nature for this one day. Grinning broadly, I jumped to my feet and kissed my father on the cheek, tucking the locket under my shirt as I left the cabin.

The cook nodded to me as I snatched a bottle of rum, winking conspiratorially with an amused smile. Thankfully, he didn't try to ask me to do anything in the kitchen. I assumed that was because he saw how stiff my fingers were. At least, I hoped that was why. Once I had the bottle in hand, I made my way to the main mast and began climbing up to the crow's nest. It took a bit of creativity, and quite a bit of pain for my hands, but I finally managed to get up there. No one else was there, so I took off my hat and settled down so that no one could see me over the top of the crow's nest.

Having my hair free again was a relief. Especially since it had grown out to almost its original length, making it uncomfortable to keep it tucked into my hat all day. I was seriously considering re-cutting my hair, but I never could bring myself to do so. My hair was the one thing that I thought of as pretty about myself, and at the moment with how I was hiding my gender from the world, it was all I had left of my femininity. Whatever femininity I ever _had_, that is.

Smiling to myself, I wrestled with the cork of the bottle, I winced in pain for a moment before I managed to take a drink. The alcohol burned its way down my throat, making me cough wildly for a moment. I blinked rapidly as the burning sensation brought tears to my eyes and coughed again. The flavor left a little something to be desired, but it wasn't…bad, necessarily. Pausing for a moment, I slowly took another drink and smiled when it didn't burn as much as before. Perhaps it wasn't as bad as I had thought it was…

"Permission ta come aboard, lass?" I heard Sparrow's voice ask quietly.

Jumping a little in surprise and nearly spilling my rum, I scooted over to the edge of the crow's nest and looked over the side. It was the captain, I noticed to my great relief. Smiling weakly, I nodded to him.

"'Course, cap'n," I said quietly, scooting back over to where I had been before, sipping at the rum again. Coughing again, I made a slight face at him. "How d'ye enjoy this so much?" I demanded.

"Practice, luv," Sparrow said with a smirk. "I've been drinkin' it fer years."

I blushed a little at being called "luv". He'd taken to calling me that whenever it was just the two of us, or whenever my father was with us. It was…endearing, and embarrassing all at once. Why did he keep doing that to me? Making me blush and…honestly.

"So basically I have ta keep this up until I'm always drunk like ye?"

"Oi! I am no' _always_ drunk," Sparrow protested with a smirk. "I jus' act like it."

Laughing a little, I took another sip and nodded to myself. It seemed that I was getting used to the taste now. It also didn't burn so much going down. That was a bonus. I almost didn't notice the slight buzzing in the back of my brain as I sipped at the rum, glancing over at the captain.

"Now. Why'd yer dad let ye finally get a taste of the rum?" he asked with an arch of his eyebrow.

Another blush crossed my cheeks. "It's…my birthday," I mumbled.

"Ah-ha!" he said with great wisdom. "Well, many happy wishes, lass," he toasted, saluting me with his bottle of rum.

"Thanks," I muttered, still bright red. "It's no' importan'…"

"'Course no'," he replied. "An' how old are ye now?"

"Fifteen," I shrugged. "It feels like I haven' been here long 'nough ta be tha' age."

He considered me fore a moment and then nodded slowly. "I can understan' tha'. Well…all the same," he said with a smile. "Congratulations."

We were both silent for a long time, not quite looking at one another and slowly sipping at our rum. Finally, after what felt like hours of companionable silence between the two of us, Jack rose to his feet and sighed.

"I'll have ta say good by fer now, luv," he said with a smile. "Happy birthday again."

"Thanks, cap'n," I said with a nod.

There was a pause as Jack looked at me closely. My face turned bright red again and I ducked my head shyly. Then I felt his lips pressed against the top of my head and my face was on fire. Why had he…? I looked up at him in surprise as he made his way down to the deck. What had just happened?


	4. The Pain of Burns and Further Loss

Disclaimer: I still only own Christine and Anne. Still no word from Disney about giving me the rights to the franchise.

Author's Note: Flashback chapter three is underway. If all goes well, this will be the last one. Then the plot will continue forward. Special thanks to all those who have listened to me babbling on and on about the plot possibilities for this story and for help with making it work out. You know who you are.

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**Caribbean Tales**

**Book I—Curse of the Black Pearl**

**Chapter Four: The Pain of Burns and Further Loss**

Port Royal was near, if Mr. Gibbs was to be believed. And Will certainly believed the older man. We were told to expect to see the small town within the next few days, unless the weather worked against us. Which, I hoped, did not happen. Not that I had much planned for when we _did_ reach the city. Will would probably enter an apprenticeship with one of the tradesman in the city, but I had no idea what I would do. We would need to support ourselves, something that I couldn't do without some form of employment.

Nothing came to mind. I couldn't do what I had done when we were still in London, which had been to dress as a boy and work at the docks. With so many people—including the bloody governor—knowing who I was and what I looked like when we arrived there, it wasn't an option at this point. I would be no good as a seamstress, as the only sewing I was capable at was mending and making sails. That and patching up holes in clothes, but I only managed that with a great deal of finger pricking involved. I couldn't be a school teacher. I had only the basic education myself, so I wasn't fit to teach children. All that left me was being a maid of some sort, and I had no idea how to start that.

I was reasonably worried at this point. How could I support my brother without any sort of employment to allow me to do so? It did not seem like I would have any options open to me when we reached our destination.

A solution didn't present itself to me until Lieutenant Norrington came to me only a day or so before we were due to arrive in Port Royal. I had just left Will to play with the two young girls, Anne and Elizabeth. He had already grown quite fond of Elizabeth, though he wouldn't tell me why. Norrington had been kind to us, and seemed to approve of the friendship that his sister shared with the other two children. He even seemed to like my brother. That was good in my minds. That meant that he could perhaps recommend Will to a capable tradesman for an apprenticeship.

I glanced over my shoulder as Lieutenant Norrington came up to stand beside me. "Miss Turner," he greeted politely, nodding to me.

"Hello, Lieutenant," I replied, turning back to looking out at the ocean. I had almost forgotten how much I loved being on the open ocean like this. Surrounded by the water with the salt breeze playing with my hair and skirts…it was freedom. "Is there anything that I can do for you?" I asked, glancing at the man standing beside me.

"Actually…Miss Turner…" he said slowly, glancing at me in turn. "I believe that I can be the one to help you."

He had my full attention now. I turned to look at him and arched an eyebrow at him. "Oh? How so?"

For a moment the two of us simply stared at one another, and I felt the heat rising in my cheeks. Finally, Norrington seemed to come to his senses and cleared his throat softly.

"I have heard your brother mention that you are in need of some sort of employment when we reach Port Royal," he said, pointedly looking away from me and at the ocean. "I believe that I may have a solution for you."

I tried to ignore the burning sensation in my cheeks. I knew that Will worried about me, just as I fussed over him, but talking about our difficulties to a man we hardly knew…was not something I had expected of him. Will was a quiet boy, normally, and he rarely confided in anyone but me. To have him tell Lieutenant Norrington that I was in need of employment…I was torn between being touched by Will's concern and embarrassment.

"Oh…" I said slowly. "What…what sort of solution?" I asked, having to pause to clear my throat.

Norrington cleared his throat as well and rocked on his heels slightly. "My sister will be in need of a Lady's maid when we reach Port Royal, and she is already quite fond of you and your brother. It would…suit me quite well to have you take that position, so that Anne might have a companion she is comfortable with."

I blinked in amazement at this. He was…truly offering me such a good position, and he did not know me that well. I couldn't help but wonder, if he knew what I had been, would he still be so kind to me? Out of instinct, I moved my left hand to cover my right wrist, staring down at the foam on the caps of the waves below us.

"Lieutenant…this is…" I started to say, clearing my throat hastily and nodding. "Thank you. I am honored and…I would enjoy this position."

Norrington looked relieved and bowed politely. "Thank you, Miss Turner. I will go and inform Anne of this." He smiled kindly and nodded before he made his way below decks.

Once he was gone, I allowed my shock to sink in and stared out at the ocean. I had to keep on my guard now. I had overheard Norrington's very…intense thoughts on how piracy should be punished, and it truly made me nervous. The last thing that I wanted was an enemy who felt so strongly about the lifestyle that had been my past, and who would not hesitate to send me to the gallows if he found out. God…I hoped he never found out.

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After my…moment with Jack—I could not call him "Captain" or even "Sparrow" in my mind now. He was always Jack—I had no idea how to act around the older man. So I settled for avoiding him. After all, what was I supposed to do after what happened? It wasn't as though we had _really_ kissed. Though, I couldn't help wondering why we hadn't.

And now I was starting to scare myself. I didn't want anything like that with Jack. He was so much older than me, and…the captain of the ship I was serving on. It wasn't as though he was exactly accessible to me. Why was I even considering this?

So I threw myself into the tasks that were given to me by all of the different members of the crew. Though I did my best to avoid coming in contact with the first mate, Barbossa. He frightened me, and I had no idea why that was the case. Perhaps it was his unusually vicious appearance, or just the fact that he always had a look in his eyes as though he could see right through my disguise to the few feminine traits that I had. Either way, he was usually the only crew member that I tried to never speak to, or be alone with.

Still, I did my best to keep up my act as Christopher Sawyer. The last thing that I wanted was to be revealed now. What the crew would do when they found out I was a girl…wasn't worth thinking about.

All of that came crashing down after I had been with the _Black Pearl_ for almost a year, in a way that none of us could have foreseen.

We had made a successful attack on a merchant ship belonging to the East India Company, and all seemed to be going well. The crew was already celebrating, and I had been running wild, taking rum to all the different men who were bellowing for it, which happened to be almost everyone. Even the captain and first mate were letting the high spirits get to them, cheering and celebrating with the rest of the men. And while I was just as excited as everyone else, I couldn't shake a feeling of impending trouble. I had no explanation for the feeling, but it persisted as I continued carrying bottles of rum around.

It wasn't until there was a shout from the watch in the crow's nest that I realized why I was so worried. The raid had been too easy. One ship all alone…it was too good to be true, and now we were paying for our overconfidence. Another East India Company ship was coming. For one moment, both Jack and I froze in comprehension of what was going to happen, our eyes meeting in shock before we both sprang into action.

"Man the guns, ye filthy dogs!" Jack barked, moving to take the helm himself. "Every man ready!"

I tried to push through the sudden rush of men to get to my father, but the press of humanity was too great. Instead of moving forward, I was just pushed back, further away from the one person that I wanted to keep an eye on. I had to make sure that the both of us made it through the inevitable battle. It was the only way for me to stay sane in this moment of action and frenzy.

For a few moments, all I could see or hear were the other crew members shouting and pressing against me. Once I regained my ability to think clearly, I found my father shouting orders at the men nearest him as he helped to run out the guns. With him now where I could keep close watch, I ran to grab a sword, or a pistol. Anything that could help me keep my father and I safe.

After the initial frenzy of motion, there was an almost deathly silence surrounding the ship as we waited for the enemy vessel to draw within firing range. The tension built up within all of us, and I could feel the sweat forming on my forehead. I didn't want this fight. I just wanted to get away from the other ship as quickly as we could. It was too late for that now, though, and I had to steel myself for the impending chaos of battle.

In the year I had been with this ship, I had been in battle several times. It never got easier. The screams of wounded and dying men, the shriek of canon and rifle fire, and the crushing sounds of wood splintering haunted me for days after each conflict. I hated it. Others on the crew seemed to live for the chaos and horror of a fight, but I was not one of them. I didn't think that I ever would be one of them. At least, I sincerely hoped that I wouldn't.

Finally, I heard the shout from Jack as the East India Company ship came within range.

"_FIRE ALL_!"

For a moment, I was afraid that I had lost my hearing after the roar of canons firing filled the air, but that quickly changed as I heard the canon balls hit their target. Hastily scrambling back to begin grabbing extra ammunition for the men working the canons, I almost didn't notice Jack's reaction to the other ship after his first shouted order. When I finally got a chance to look at him, I was shocked to see that he had frozen. His dusky skin had lost almost all its color, even his lips were white, and he seemed unable to form any words as he stared at the other ship's captain.

Turning to follow his gaze, I saw a man who did not look like any East India Company captain I had ever seen before. He was almost frighteningly well-kept in appearance, and from what I could see, shorter than all the other men surrounding him. It turned out that my first assumption that he was the captain of the vessel proved to be wrong, as I saw a man in a captain's uniform walking around barking orders. But Jack wasn't looking at the captain. His gaze was fixed on the first man I had noticed. The one with the chilling look in his eyes and seemingly no expression.

A chill ran down my spine, and I nearly dropped the canon ball I was holding. Thankfully, I was able to regain some control of myself before that happened, and I once more returned to the battle. Guns went off in rapid succession, both above and below decks, and the sound was deafening. Still, Jack kept his eyes on the strange man on the other ship. What was so important about this man, I couldn't help wondering. No answer presented itself as the battle raged on. Until I spotted several members of the other ship's crew preparing to board the _Pearl_. Another chill ran through me.

"Cap'n!" I shouted. "Enemies abou' ta board!"

That snapped Jack out of his stupor, and he began barking orders again, shouting at the men on the deck of the ship to prepare for enemies boarding. That included me. Gripping the sword I had snatched up tightly, I swallowed harshly and set my jaw. All I had to do was survive this day and pray that my father did the same. Simple…

Then the enemy was boarding and all other thoughts were chased from my mind. I hardly knew what I was doing as I slashed and swung my sword as hard as I could anytime a uniformed man came near me. In the back of my mind I was vaguely aware of someone shouting an order…and it sounded ominous. Then the cold voice managed to pierce through the battle-induced fog surrounding my mind.

"Take what prisoners you can! Kill the rest."

Prisoners…that meant that those of us caught would be taken to London, or whatever British port was nearest to us, put on trial and executed. And if I was taken, then my secret would be revealed, and I would have to go home to London. If my father was captured, then he would die and Will and Mama would never see him again. Will would grow up thinking that his father had abandoned him, and I couldn't let that happen.

A new fire seemed to enter my blood as I thought of this. Whatever doubts and fears had prevented me from fighting as hard as I could vanished, and I began stabbing the sailors who attacked me. Before, I had done my best to avoid killing, but knowing that if I didn't, I would lose my father forever…it became another matter entirely.

As I fought and slashed my way through my attackers, I suddenly found myself with my arms pinned to my sides. The sword was thrown out of my hands and it was only when I felt myself lifted off the ground that my sudden danger became clear. Throwing aside any care I had left for keeping my gender a secret, I screamed at the top of my lungs for help, my voice shrill with fear.

I could see my father somewhere in the chaos, but he was too far away. So was Jack…I was alone.

No…

…When I opened my eyes, I was in a ship's hold. Without looking around, I knew instantly that I was not onboard the _Pearl_. I couldn't see or hear anyone else. Had I been the only one who had been captured? If so, I didn't know if I was more hurt or relieved by this fact. If I was the only one, that meant that fewer of us would be executed; it also meant that I had not been fast or strong enough.

Hot tears filled my eyes, and I moved to curl up as tightly as I could in the corner, my back pressed against the cold, damp metal of the bars keeping me in. I was going to die. That much I was sure of. The East India Trading Company was not known for its merciful treatment of pirates, after all. If the stories were to be believed, then I was not likely to get a fair trial from the Company. It was all my fault. I shouldn't have snuck onto the _Pearl_ when I knew that this sort of thing might happen. And yet, even knowing this, I couldn't bring myself to regret my choices that had brought me here.

Besides…I was sure that my father would find me. He would know I was missing and force Jack to follow the ship to get me back. I hoped.

I couldn't deny that there would be reasons for my father to not follow. It would reveal who I was to the crew, it would put the _Pearl_ in danger, and it would probably end in everyone dead no matter what. And so, I resigned myself to my fate. I was going to die, and soon if whoever was captaining this ship had their way.

Even knowing this and accepting it as fact, I couldn't hold back the tears that were filling my eyes. I didn't want to die. Of course, no one wants to die. But I was still young. I still had things that I wanted to do and goals I wanted to achieve. I wanted to continue to sail the seas, and maybe find a way to reunite my family again, as I had originally intended to do when I first decided to follow my father.

Fate can be cruel sometimes.

I don't know how long I was in that hold. It could have been days, weeks, even months. I lost all track of time in that tiny little cage, the monotony only broken by the times when one of the guards would bring me my meals. Soon even that began to fade into the background for me, as despair took over. If Jack had been intent on getting me back, he would have attempted to do so by now. Clearly, a young cabin boy wasn't worth the notice of a great pirate captain like Jack Sparrow.

I later learned that two weeks had passed since I was taken by the East India Company when this finally changed. The guard who came to collect me made no attempt to be gentle with me, grabbing hold of my arm so tightly I could almost feel the bruises forming on my skin. He dragged me through the ship until we reached the private cabins of the various officers and such on the ship.

As he led me along, a sense of foreboding began to build up inside of my chest. Why did these officers suddenly want to see me? I was just a cabin boy, as far as they were concerned. Unless they wanted to question me before we reached whatever our destination was…

My thoughts were cut off by the door to one of the cabins opening and an amazingly chilled and controlled voice calling out, "Enter!"

I couldn't breathe suddenly as I was shoved into the room, stumbling forward, I fell to my knees and looked up to see the man I had noticed during the battle on the _Black Pearl_. He was smaller than I had anticipated, and yet he had a presence that intimidated me so much that I decided to stay on my knees rather than stand up and look him in the eye. His eyes were unfeeling and harsh, and almost painful to look at because of how frighteningly iblue/i they were. Swallowing harshly, I clenched my hands into fists to hide how badly they were quivering.

"Leave us," the man ordered the guard who had brought me in.

"Should I not chain him, Mr. Beckett?" the guard asked, glancing at me with a frown.

The shorter man looked down at me thoughtfully and then nodded. "Yes. That might be best, given what must be done. Chain him and then leave us."

Saluting smartly, the guard dragged me to one of the walls and placed shackles on my wrists, threading the chain through a ring in the wall, which made me wonder how many others had been brought here to be interrogated. The thought made my stomach churn sickeningly and I swallowed again, trying to keep the bile from rising in my throat. With the way I was now chained to the wall, my arms were twisted painfully to the side and up above my head, forcing me to face the wall directly perpendicular to the one I was chained too. To keep an eye on my current tormentor, I had to crane my neck in such a manner that the muscles of my neck were screaming in protest.

This man—Beckett, he had been called—paced the floor directly in front of me for a moment or two, his silence as chilling as his tone had been. I waited with baited breath, mentally yelling at him to just get on with it.

"So. You have been serving under the great Captain Jack Sparrow," he mused. "I wonder…things are never what they seem with Sparrow…"

Still mulling over this, he stepped towards me, the look in his eyes sending off all kinds of warning signals in my mind. And yet, there was nothing I could do to stop him as he reached up and yanked the hat and bandana covering my hair off. In the time that I had been with the crew of the _Pearl_, my hair had almost grown back to its original length, so my hair tumbled down just past my shoulders, almost to my shoulder blades. A few strands fell in front of my eyes and I looked at Beckett from behind my hair with a glare that I hoped was defiant.

Apparently this was not quite what Beckett had expected, as he did pause for a moment, but he did manage to keep any surprise he was feeling from his expression. Instead, an icy smile crossed his lips as he looked at me. "How interesting," he murmured thoughtfully, taking in the sight of my vibrant hair. "Yes…once again, Captain Jack Sparrow does not fail to impress me with his sheer audacity. A woman as a cabin boy…"

He turned away from me, chuckling to himself and calmly placing my bandana and hat on a table next to what looked like a small bed of coals in an iron brazier of some sort. That made my entire body tense, as though ready to spring. Not that the instinct would do me any good at this point. Sticking out of the coals was a long metal bar, and my imagination instantly ran wild with what it might be. One idea was the most obvious; a pirate brand.

I whimpered a little to myself as Beckett stoked the coals, causing them to glow brighter before he took out the brand and inspected its red hot surface with all the disinterest of a man looking at an everyday occurrence.

"Do you understand the gravity of your situation, Miss?" he asked slowly, still eyeing the brand thoughtfully.

My voice could not move past the sudden lump in my throat, so I remained silent. It was the smarter option at this point, as I doubted that anything I could say would sway Beckett one way or another.

"You have committed acts of piracy," he continued, clearly not having expected an answer from me. "And as such, you must be punished." Here, he turned to me, the brand still in hand, and sneered slightly at me. "This may sting just a bit."

I began thrashing, trying to pull free of the chains holding me. While I knew that such attempts were useless, the age-old instinct to fight or flee had kicked in, and I only knew that I had to get away from here, before he could touch my skin with that brand. But, as I had expected, I could not succeed in this attempt, and Beckett pressed the brand to the skin on the back of my right wrist.

Searing pain unlike anything I had ever felt before shot through my arm, causing me to twitch violently as a shrill scream of agony ripped itself out of my throat. Tears filled my eyes and flowed down my cheeks as my legs gave out, sending me into an awkward half-kneeling, half-crouching position with my arms twisted painfully above my head. The discomfort of how my arms were now positioned was nothing compared to the white-hot pain still lancing through my body, generating from my wrist.

Finally, the heat causing my pain was gone, but the screaming ache and agony were still present. Further tears of pain flowed down my cheeks, and my throat was raw from my almost inhuman screech from before. I didn't dare lift my head to look at Beckett, for fear of what I might see in his expression. All I wanted now, was for the pain to end somehow. I would almost welcome death now, if only that would make it disappear.

"Well," Beckett said briskly. "That is one nuisance dealt with…"

At that moment, the ship heaved violently, combined with the booming thud of a cannonball colliding with the wood of the stern. Looking up dully, I tried to will myself to believe that I was saved, that my father had convinced Jack to come after me. No such hopes were awakened as I looked around the room. They wouldn't find me here. This ship would either escape or destroy the _Pearl_ before they ever managed to board and search for me. My eyes stung with fresh tears and I once more lowered my face so that my arm hid my expression from Beckett's view.

The sounds of battle raged on, and when I looked up again, I discovered that I was alone in the room. Beckett must have left to see what the bloody hell was going on. All the better to allow me to further sink into the crushing despair that threatened to overcome me. I closed my eyes again, and only opened them when I felt a pair of strong, calloused hands touching my face, clearly in an attempt to wake me. As I opened my eyes, I was amazed to see both my father and Jack standing before me.

"She's awake, William," Jack said with clear relief in his voice. "Have ye foun' the key?" he continued, his eyes never leaving my face.

For a moment—one mad, wild moment—I panicked. This was a dream. Or worse, I was dying and hallucinating in my last moments alive. The panic remained until I stared directly into Jack's eyes. No…this was real. The pain in my wrist combined with the look of determination and fear in Jack's eyes proved that.

"Here!" my father called, rushing over and unlocking the manacles on my wrists. "Christine…" he whispered, gathering me into his arms as I fell forward bonelessly, my eyes burning from all the tears I had already shed.

Jack kept back in this moment, watching the two of us closely and frowning. "We have ta go. Cover her hair, an' we'll ge' outta here, afore anyone else finds their way in here." That was when his eyes fell onto my right wrist, and his expression froze into a mask of such fury that I recoiled a little from him. "William…they branded her."

I strongly suspect that I swooned at that moment from the combined exhaustion and pain, because when I woke again, I was once more in the cabin I shared with my father. It was almost as though I had never been taken from the _Pearl_. Almost…except for the pain in my wrist. When I looked down to inspect it, I found that it had been wrapped in cold, wet bandages to both soothe the burning skin and to ensure that the wound would heal at all. Looking away from my wrist, I turned to see my father watching me closely.

"Ye're awake, finally…" he said with a heavy sigh. "How d'ye feel?"

"Like hell," I croaked, wincing at how raw my throat felt.

"I believe it," he replied, sighing heavily and coming over to stroke my hair softly. "Christine…ye have ta return ta England…"

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I forced the memories back once more, pressing my hand against my pirate brand as I looked into the distance. This time I could start again. A new life, where no one knew me at all. This was the last option I had to leave behind my past, and I intended to embrace it wholeheartedly.


End file.
